Me
Great!
“You are one lucky cat,” I tell Furball, who’s sitting at a safe distance in the kitchen watching me scrape his vomit from my boot. When he hears the front door Smutty shoots into the corridor probably with the aim of begging for some belly rubs.
“Hey Mister, see this? Now you won’t be able to vomit in Ben’s shoes anymore,” Amelia giggles.
“Too late darling,” I hold up exhibit A.
“Ben, what are you―” Her eyes drift to Smutty. “Not again. I’m so sorry. But I bought you a rack with doors so he can’t get to your shoes anymore.” She points at the box next to her.
“You bought us a shoe rack,” I correct her before dropping my boot on the floor.
“I don’t live here,” she protests but willingly snuggles up in my arms when I hold them out to her.
“You would if I had my way.” I mean, she basically is. She stays here every night. Every so often she makes a weak attempt at suggesting to sleep at her flat but me and Furball gang up on her. He hides from her and I refuse to help her look for him. In the end, we win and everyone is happy.
“Ben!”
“Let’s be practical here; you pay a lot of rent each month and for what?”
“Well, maybe Smutty and I should sleep at home more often,” she suggests and places a soft kiss on my chin.
“Wrong! Give up your flat.”
“And then what?”
“Move in here,” I grin.
“What’s the rent?” Shit, this is different, is she going to give in? She better not be toying with me.
“No rent.”
“I have to pay rent,” she protests.
“Why?”
“Because―”
“Excellent argument,” I chuckle. “This house is paid off. I don’t pay rent. This house is mine, there’s no mortgage on it, nothing. Come on. Just move in.”
I see the conflict in her eyes.
“Please,” I beg. Yes, I’m not ashamed to do that. “I can guarantee you daily orgasms,” I whisper.
“Ben!” she laughs but then relaxes in my arms. “Fine, I’ll call my landlady on Monday.”
“You’re making me very happy.”
“Yeah, yeah, you just want someone to bake you cakes,” she jokes but there’s joy in her face.
I pick up my boot from the floor and head back to the utility room.
“How was therapy?” I call out. Amelia is emptying groceries from her shopping bag into the fridge.
“Good, she encouraged me to talk with you about something I’ve been meaning to bring up,” she says casually, but her body is tense.
“What is it?” I drop on one of the stools next to the breakfast bar.
“I... I was wondering how you would feel about a trip up north.”
“Sure. Any time. Why were you worried to ask?” I’m confused.
“It would be for three months.” She nervously nibbles her bottom lip.
“Three months? What are you planning to do, climb every hill in the Lake District?” I laugh.
“No, there’s this art course in Yorkshire. And it looks amazing. You have lessons twice a week and you can practice different crafts.” Her eyes light up. Her therapist has encouraged her to find a new hobby as she didn’t really have anything aside from travelling and Smutty. She tried yoga and had an unfortunate farting incident and now she refuses to go back. She joined a cooking class and burned her first dish. She took up baking but there’s only so much cake we can eat. And then she discovered working with clay and loves it.
I turned one of the guest bedrooms into a small art studio for her and when I say “I”, I mean I paid proper professionals to do the work. She protested at first but gave in and I had another reason to keep her here.
Every Sunday Robbie comes over to have a craft session with her. She’s even helped him build a proper bird house. Amelia found her thing, and I’ll support her where I can.
“Sounds good to me,” I smile.
“Are you sure? It might be quite boring for you. But I found this farmhouse with a hot tub and we can bring Smutty and maybe Coop and Lizzie can visit, and―”
“Amelia,” I stop her, “I don’t need to be entertained. I can use the time to maybe find my own hobby. I'd quite like to try my hand at writing or something.”
